


All Good Things

by maven



Series: The Thing-verse [17]
Category: E.R.
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-12
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-28 23:00:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/997946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maven/pseuds/maven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This series is mainly canon up to the end of Season 7 where it becomes alternative universe. Everything on the show beyond that point is in the vague realm of "didn't happen"... sort of like the sequels to the Matrix and Star Wars 1-3.</p><p>About the songs... what can I say?  Je suis Canadien.  The two in this fic are Blue Rodeo's "Lost Together" and Jann Arden's "A Thing for You".  Which, by the way, is where the name of the Thing-verse came from.</p>
    </blockquote>





	All Good Things

**Author's Note:**

> This series is mainly canon up to the end of Season 7 where it becomes alternative universe. Everything on the show beyond that point is in the vague realm of "didn't happen"... sort of like the sequels to the Matrix and Star Wars 1-3.
> 
> About the songs... what can I say? Je suis Canadien. The two in this fic are Blue Rodeo's "Lost Together" and Jann Arden's "A Thing for You". Which, by the way, is where the name of the Thing-verse came from.

We pause at the door, he still smiling and me still smiling and from the living room we can hear the music and her humming along.

"She doesn't even try to fake it anymore," he says, the smile fading into a paler imitation just this side of a grimace.

"I couldn't get her to look at the book before you came over. That helps."

"She called me Billy."

"I know."

He nods, an abrupt jerk of the head that is more to hide his face than anything else because, like his mother, tears come easily to him. And, like his other mother, he hates for others to see them.

_**"What did you inherit from me?"** _

_**He laughed, "Hopefully your strength, Mab."** _

_**"If you are it's from Kerry."** _

_**"No. Mom was brave. And stubborn."** _

_**"Maybe. But that means you inherited two doses of stubbornness."** _

_**"Three doses, you mean."** _

"You need anything?"

I shake my head back into the present. "No, Foster is bringing the grocery order when he comes on Thursday."

"Well, if you do..." he continues, the ritual ending.

"I'll call."

"Anything at all."

I reach up and cup his face in my hands staring into his eyes. Another thing he inherited. The ritual continues, he allowing me to look and see them alive and bright and acknowledging.

"I'll call, my little man, if I need anything at all. Even if it's just to hear your voice."

He swallows hard, nods and leaves. I lock the door, turn our home of nearly forty years into the prison, and return the key to its place under my shirt.

Ritual completed.

_**"Its fool proof?"** _

_**"As we can make it. If the smoke detectors go off the doors automatically unlock. Same as if any of the house phones call 911 or you use the panic button."** _

_**"I don't want..."** _

_**"Don't worry. She can't wander off but if it's an emergency she won't be trapped."** _

I return to the living room where she's sitting, the memory book propped against her legs as she sits on the floor with her back against the couch. She is in his section, flipping back from the present to the pictures of his wedding and his graduation and his prom and his childhood until she reaches the pictures of him as a toddler sprawled naked on our bed. I remember taking the picture, Kerry and Kim hovering just out of the shot. Ready to catch him if he began to roll or crawl off.

"Angel," she says, looking up at me and I sit beside her.

"Gabriel," I say, tracing his name under the picture and we work our way forward, me telling her about his first tooth, bike, date, and child.

She looks around at the cups and desert plates. "I miss him."

"He misses you, too, Kim."

She flips some more pages of the book, opening it randomly and touching the picture or words printed there. Friends and family representing thirty years of her life. There are other books but this is the one she spends the most time with. I stand, forgotten, and begin to clear the clutter.

_**"I don't want her to forget."** _

_**"She will."** _

_**"No, Abby. Part of her will always remember."** _

_**"Because of bunch of books?"** _

_**"I've linked everything, she can find a place that she does remember and then move forward. A picture of you when you moved in and move forward to who you are now. And maybe that will help."** _

She's still looking at the book when I move through the living room and up the stairs to the bedroom. I set out her nightclothes; the large oversized t-shirt and the bright red gown in case she wants to come back down. If she remembers to put it on. Sometimes I find her shivering in the living room or kitchen and am thankful for the locks all over again.

_**"Where are you going?"** _

_**"I want to go home."** _

_**"You are home, Kim."** _

_**"No. This isn't... Where's Mom and Dad? Billy?"** _

_**"This is your home now. With me."** _

_**"You?" she asked, and I could see the sudden shift from lost child to something much older.** _

_**"Yeah, me," I affirm, mouth suddenly dry.** _

_**"I know you," she says, body turning in my hands and suddenly I'm not holding her from leaving and it's me trying to pull free. But her fingers are clutching my robe and she's pulling me into a kiss. I have enough presence of mind to push the door shut against the October chill and hear the click of the lock.** _

_**"Kim," I protest because some moral part of me feels like I'm committing adultery. Or that she is. "Do you even know who I am?"** _

_**"You're you. You're home."** _

_**"Oh, God."** _

_**"You're mine."** _

_**"Yes."** _

I pull out my own nightclothes and change quickly. And in a moment of weakness I open the top drawer, pulling out one of the pillowcases covered with potpourri and bring it to my face, breathing in the scent.

_**"Another attempt? Like the tapes or the book?"** _

_**"No one really knows how the human brain works, Abby. How memory works. I smell cinnamon and I'm back fifty years in my mother's kitchen watching her make apple pies. Like you and cotton candy. Maybe even if she doesn't remember a part of her will be comforted. If she smells it or hears it or sees it and feels loved than it doesn't matter that it's a smelly pillow or a song or a picture or me. As long as she feels loved."** _

I found two boxes of the potpourri when I moved back in. One labelled "Kerry" with the scent of apples and sandalwood and one marked "Gabriel" with the scent of baby powder and oil. And a whole drawer full of pillowcases smelling of herbs and Ivory soap. So that even though I had physically moved out of the house a memory remained in our bed.

_**"I have to leave."** _

_**"I know."** _

_**"This only works when we're equals and we're not. And right now she needs you more than me. She doesn't remember me or if she does it's from when she lost the baby."** _

_**"I know, Abs, hush. It's all right."** _

_**"I can't do that again, Ker. I can't go through the guilt when I know I have nothing to feel guilty about."** _

_**"Hush, Abs."** _

_**"Ah, fuck it, Kerry, get mad at me. I'm running away when you need me. Don't understand, yell."** _

_**"No, Abby. You're strong enough to leave now. Because there'll be a time when we need you more and you need to be strong for then."** _

I head downstairs where she's acquired a glass of milk and is holding the book closed, clasped against her. She smiles at me as I pass through to the kitchen. I put away the extra empty glass that she'd got out and look for the milk pitcher. I find it beside the sugar bowl and return it to the fridge. I wipe up the small drips and check that the knife drawer and back door are locked.

_**"If it's any consolation hers is the last generation to suffer from this."** _

**_"No," I grit out, grinding my cigarette into the teacup saucer that the nice doctor had offered us. Smudging tar and ash into the delicate painted roses. Taking childish glee in the doctor's frown of disapproval because Kim doesn't remember that I quit and Kerry is too distraught to notice that I've started again. "Not much consolation at all."_ **

Originally it was amusing. The salt and pepper in the fridge. Coffees with the sugar added twice. Constantly getting her shift confused and the prominent calendar in the kitchen to keep track of the days with big red Xs. Bitching about who had done the crossword and then bitching about how easy it was when she did them the second time. Funny with an edge of panic because we knew what was happening and the ultimate outcome

I check the living room windows and shoo her upstairs before checking the basement door.

_**"She was in your old room, crying but she couldn't explain why. I'm sure she was looking for you."** _

_**"Jesus."** _

_**"It's time for you to come home, Abby."** _

_**"Just because... "** _

_**"Not because of that. I had, uh, there was an episode. An attack. And the tests are back and... "** _

_**"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask when I've read the news she can't bring herself to say aloud.** _

_**"I am telling you. When I had something to tell you"** _

_**"And you're telling me what, Kerry?"** _

_**"That it's time for you to come home, Abby."** _

I check the front door for the second time and go upstairs. She's already changed, her robe loose around her as she looks through the book again.

"Did you brush your teeth?"

"I think so."

"You'd better have, Stretch."

She grins and the eyes flash with recognition but I can't tell if it's me or the nickname or the ritual of toothbrush question. It doesn't really matter. Recognition for any reason is a victory these days. I brush my own teeth, cleaning off her brush and the excess toothpaste on the counter.

I crawl onto the bed and she scoots forward a bit so that I can sit behind her and she can rest back against me. She's in the Kerry section, looking at the pictures of when they first moved in together in the year or so before me. Back when the mirror was still on the ceiling. It's Kim's favourite picture; her lying on her back with a sleeping Kerry sprawled across her. She told me how she had waited until Kerry had fallen asleep and arranged the sheet so that Kerry's naked back covered Kim's naked length.

_**"You're putting in porn?"** _

_**"This isn't porn. Look again. What is it?"** _

_**"Love and trust."** _

_**"And a cleverly concealed camera. She always thought I was asleep when she arranged that."** _

_**"Your secret's safe."** _

If you knew where to look you could see the camera in the reflected picture.

She turns the pages and we get into my area. Pictures of me alone, with Kerry or Kim, of the three of us. Mostly laughing because those were happy times. I watch as, with each flip of the page, we grow older.

_**"You want me to put in a picture of your tombstone?"** _

_**"Very funny."** _

_**"I'm serious."** _

_**"No. I'm selfish enough to not want her to have a reminder of me leaving."** _

_**"It's not leaving Kerry, it's fucking dying."** _

_**She pulled me to her, lips onto mine in a kiss that was equally desperate and arousing. "Tell me that this is just for now. That it ends when we die."** _

_**"I don't believe in the afterlife. In heaven or hell."** _

_**"Then my belief will just have to drag you along."** _

"Where's Kerry?"

"She had to leave for a bit."

"Oh." Pause. "When will she be back?"

"We'll see her when it's time, love."

"She sang to me, didn't she?"

"Well, many would argue but sure, in a Leonard Cohen kind of way. You want to listen?"

At her nod I put the book onto the night table and press the play button. From headboard speakers Kerry's voice sings about loving faces and toes and hearts and souls. Kim scoots forward more, her silent signal that I should brush her hair, and wraps herself around Kerry's pillow. Losing herself in the sound and scent of Kerry.

I could feel the tears and helplessness growing and firmly squashed them. Breaking down was not allowed. Or rather only on Tuesdays, Thursday and Saturday afternoons when Kim was with Foster and Randy or with Gabe and I'm alone.

_**"Whatchya looking for, Stretch?"** _

_**It was the night of her funeral; Kim still dressed in her black dress although I'd lost the trappings of mourning as soon as I entered the house. She'd gone through the entire funeral with a politely sorrowful expression, as if it were the funeral of a casual acquaintance of her parents. A duty rather than the funeral of her lover of over thirty years.** _

_**"I don't know."** _

_**"Come on, it's time to get ready for bed."** _

_**"Where's the woman that sleeps with us?"** _

It was the last time that I broke down in front of her.

"Short Stuff?"

"Yeah, Stretch."

"I'm sleepy now."

I put the brush away and turn the volume down so that it's barely audible. She curls up, still hugging the pillow, and quickly falls into a light doze. My mind is too active to rest though so I lay there, drawing idle circles on her arm as I wait for it to quiet.

_**"What is this?"** _

_**"These are my funeral instructions. These are Kim's. This envelope is for you when you make them. These are DNRs for Kim and myself. These are full powers of attourney giving you complete authority over our finances and medical decisions."** _

_**"You are fucking insane if you think I'm going to sign off on those DNRs."** _

_**"No. Foster will sign them with Gabriel witnessing. I've already talked to them."** _

_**"This is too soon. I can't deal with this," I protest, plucking at the bed sheet and trying not to storm out because she shouldn't be chasing after me. And she will if I storm out. "Damnit, I want more time. We deserve more time."** _

_**"C'mere, Abs," she said, pulling me closer. "We had a lifetime together."** _

_**"I want more. I want you and her and forever. Not this."** _

_**"Just a few bumps in the road," she says, brushing my hair back so that my face and pain are naked. She smiles, bringing my forehead to her lips before kissing the tip of my nose and finally my lips. " Comfort or oblivion?"** _

_**"Aren't you supposed to be resting?"** _

_**"I'm in bed."** _

_**"Kerry... "** _

_**"Just think. My reputation will be assured if I die while making love to you. And the eulogy!"** _

_**"Kerry... "** _

_**"I'm not going to stop living before I'm dead, Abby." The kiss now is slow and deep. Sadness and arousal and familiarity and courage. I've spent nearly half my life kissing and being kissed by her and the thought of it ending...** _

_**"Comfort or oblivion?" she whispers.** _

_**"Both. Always both."** _

Kim stirs beside me. Nestling into the pillow and murmuring sleepily.

"What are you dreaming of, love?" I whisper into her ear. She answers, but too faintly for me to hear.

I turn off the light and burrow into her back. The scent of her hair and from Kerry's pillow mix, the soft murmur of Kerry's voice now singing how strange and beautiful are the stars tonight and I drift back until we're driving north out of Wisconsin and toward Minnesota and eventually the Canadian border with Kim asleep in the back seat and Kerry riding shotgun and singing softly with the car's mp3 player while I drive through midnight and the stars and moon are so bright that I was tempted to just turn off the headlights and when I finally do I pull to the side of the road and stand between Kerry's legs as she sits on the hood of the car watching the aurora borealis flicker into life while she sing-hums that song into my ear, promising me that if we are lost, then we are lost together, and it's only interrupted only by lazy kisses that lasted forever before we woke Kim up to share in the view.

_**"That's a country song," I protest to buy time to get my emotions under control.** _

_**"It's not country. They just have the word rodeo in their name."** _

_**"No, Kerry. It's country."** _

_**"Country influenced. They are Canadian after all."** _

_**"And that forgives so much," I say and finally I know I can ask without breaking down. "Why are you putting your and my song on this?"** _

_**"What made you think this was only for her?"** _

_**"I thought... "** _

_**"It's strange. The more she forgets the more I remember. And the more I remember the more I want to make sure that Gabe and the kids and the children unborn know us."** _

_**"Ker?"** _

_**"It's okay. Don't cry. Remember the borealis? How it looked like a lace curtain? And the moon behind us? That night I looked at the stars and the lights and knew beyond a doubt that there was a God. And I also knew that if He could create such beauty that He wouldn't be petty enough to deny us forever. And I never want you to forget that."** _

I feel my eyes grow heavy and Kim laces her fingers into mine, pulling my arm so that together we hold onto the pillow. She sighs, speaking one last word before falling into oblivion for the night.

"Phoenix."

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> This was the final story in the ER Thing-verse series. Thank you for reading.


End file.
